


Solutions

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor pre-constructs relieving Hank.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 135





	Solutions

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Humans require rest at regular intervals, and they’re working well into the evening, past when the rest of the department’s gone home, so maybe that’s why Hank can’t concentrate. Connor peers across their shared desk space and examines his eyes, but they’re dilated, not red, and his heavy shoulders appear tense, not drooping. Sometimes Connor wishes that humans had an easy diagnostic program. Unfortunately, there’s often no way to properly diagnose their troubles without simply asking. And Connor knows from experience that Hank won’t give him a helpful answer. 

Connor finally pushes out of his chair and wanders around to stand beside Hank, eyeing his partner from a new vantage point. Hank’s stress visibly increases. He glances up at Connor once before hurriedly averting his gaze, giving Connor another clue. He tries to shuffle his chair closer to his desk, but not fast enough to keep Connor from catching the most telling piece of evidence. Hank’s pants are tented. Connor suddenly understands the source of Hank’s distraction: he’s _aroused._

It makes no sense. There’s no erotic stimulus anywhere in the office. The androids lining the walls are inactive and fully clothed. Connor is the only other conscious being in the office, and Connor’s collar is buttoned up as high as usual, revealing no nudity. He’s said nothing overtly sexual all night. Besides, Hank has shown a notable disinterest in androids—proximity to Connor couldn’t possibly be affecting him in that manner. He must simply be having one of those erratic, irrational responses so integral to human behaviour. They’re an incredibly flawed species. 

They’re a necessary evil, and Hank is a valuable asset when his mind is clear. Connor estimates that erasing Hank’s current impediment should up their performance output by at least twenty-six percent. 

Hank shoots Connor a surreptitious look and flushes a dark red. His lips twitch in a frown. Connor runs a series of pre-constructions to determine the best course of action. Clearly, Hank’s erection needs to be soothed. Connor calculates his own hand reaching forward and down between Hank’s legs but also sees Hank reeling back. Connor pre-constructs the scene from another angle. But it would take approximately nine minute and forty-three seconds to bring Hank to orgasm with only his dry hand. Captain Fowler has hand sanitizer in his office that could serve for lubrication, but fetching it would raise objections from Hank. 

Connor tries another scenario—bending over Hank’s desk and allowing Hank to enter him. As he’s incapable of feeling pain and his soft insides are harder to damage than a human’s, he wouldn’t require lubrication. If he were able to present himself at the optimal angle, Hank would be unlikely to protest. But Hank would also want to control the thrusts and surely deliver them too hard, knocking several objects off his desk and requiring a clean up period afterwards. 

Connor runs a third projection. If he could position himself under Hank’s desk and provide oral stimulation, it would have the added benefit of shielding them from view if anyone else comes back to the office. That would give them adequate time to recover without stirring suspicion of fraternization at work. Connor knows that the human police code doesn’t allow for such fraternization—although the use of a machine for such sexual gratification hasn’t yet been ruled on—but humans don’t often account for their own flawed needs.

Clearly, Hank needs to come, and Connor’s mouth would be the most favorable location—he could store the evidence until easier disposal. He goes over the many times Hank’s gaze has lingered on Connor’s face despite Hank’s remarks about his looks and decides that Hank does enjoy the sight of him. Surely Hank wouldn’t protest to pursuing that approval in the interest of increasing their work productivity. Connor calculates that he could bring Hank to orgasm within four minutes and twelve seconds if he properly utilized his tongue. 

That’s an acceptable time to invest in clearing Hank’s mind. Connor abruptly pulls Hank’s chair away from the desk and ducks down beneath it. Hank splutters in surprise, as Connor predicted, and his eyes go wide as Connor kneels between his legs and begins unbuckling his belt. Both of Hank’s hands shoot down to grab and still Connor’s. He practically shouts, “What the _hell_ are you doing?”

“I’m going to perform oral sex on you,” Connor smoothly answers. 

“ _Excuse me_?”

“You are obviously distracted, Lieutenant. We must negate that distraction if we are to make any progress on our case.”

“What... so... you’re just gonna _blow me_?”

“My programming suggests suction is more pleasurable than the reverse, but I am amenable to your personal tastes.”

“What... you fucking...”

They don’t have time for this nonsense. The entire point was to get over Hank’s ridiculous behaviour as soon as possible. Connor cuts straight to the point: “Would you prefer I _not_ do so?”

Hank stares at him for a long moment. Connor allows it to pass, watching the hesitation flicker through his partner’s eyes, because hopefully, once they establish this routine once, Hank won’t need to mull over it next time. Finally, Hank sinks back into his chair and mumbles, “Fuck it... go ahead.”

Connor answers, “I plan to,” and gets to work.


End file.
